The whole weasel question

Consider the case of a mathematician, in this caseMy oldest brother, who is (a) halved by an illness,(b) stilled completely by it, and (c) reduced to ash.Trust me, he would be the first to note that finallyHe finished his travels at 0.00416666667 of whatHe weighed for a long time. I bet then he’d spendWeeks poking into what else weighed exactly that.I’d get a terse note with a list in his meticulous ink:The cardinal on average weighs 0.992 of a pound,And the long-tailed weasel weighs exactly a pound.A letter like that is exactly like a zen koan, I think.It’s as much a door as a statement. Let us considerThat we have all just now received this terse letter.It sits there grinning on the table next to the coffee.I don’t know about you, but I am going to dive intoThe whole weasel question. We have so little time,And there’s so much to be discovered. I want to beAble to be conversant about this the next time I seeMy brother. He’ll want to know. He’ll have missedA lot of time that could have been devoted to theseThings, and someone has to carry the ball, whetherIt’s weasels or cardinals or cancer. How mortifyingIt will be if he asks me about something, and I haveTo say I didn’t pay attention, man, and he will stareAt me with that laser stare and not even have to say,And what was it you did instead of paying attention?

Brian Doyle

Brian Doyle is editor of Portland magazine at the University of Portland. He is the author of Leaping: Revelations and Epiphanies, A Shimmer of Something: Lean Stories of Spiritual Substance, and, most recently, Chicago, a novel.